Last night I wrote with the window open, sipping the favored sparkling water a friend brought me from Anchorage. My polish lingered from a recent slow Saturday, when I let a daughter paint my toes. The puppy slept and did not bark at the moose. The sun stayed out ‘til bedtime, clouds pink and mountains aglow.
The world, mine and yours and everyone’s everywhere, seems to be trying its best to heal, one day at a time.
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